


Mad

by moonwillow27458



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hospitals, Hurt Dean Winchester, Protective Bobby Singer, Scared Sam, Young Winchesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 08:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4173483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonwillow27458/pseuds/moonwillow27458
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean gets hurt, Sam's first thought is to call an ambulance. He didn't think how mad his Dad might be when the hospital realise Sam and Dean are on their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mad

“Dean, I'm bored,” Sam whined. Dean looked over to his little brother, and saw him leaning over the sofa and staring into the kitchen where he was doing homework at the table. On the TV, Thundercats was playing but it was the second time today that that episode had been on and at least the eighth time that week. 

“Go draw or something,” Dean mumbled, trying to focus on the maths sums he had in front of him. He heard Sam sigh as he pulled out some paper from his bag and began to doodle. After ten minutes of grumpy noises coming from Sam, Dean gave up on his homework and went to sit beside him on the sofa. The kid had managed to fill the page with doodles of Sam as Robin and Dean as Batman, muscles and all. It made him look impressive compared to his regular twelve year old body.

“Is that me?” Dean asked, pointing to a picture of Batman carrying Robin.

“Yeah. You’re Batman ‘cuz you’re a big hero, and I'm Robin ‘cuz you need a sidekick and Robin’s cool ‘cuz he’s named after a bird,” Sam jabbered excitedly as he described the picture. “And Batman’s carrying Robin ‘cuz you always save me from the bullies at school.”

“It’s good. Can I keep it?” Dean asked gently, prying the pad out of Sam’s chubby fingers. Eagerly, he nodded his head, handing over the paper. Briskly, Dean walked over to his and Sam’s duffle, taking out a notebook he was supposed to use for school, but instead kept as a folder. It had all of his important things in, like Uncle Bobby’s number, Pastor Jim’s number, and Caleb’s number, as well as all the special things Sammy had made him over the years. The first thing in the book was a mother’s day card Sam had made when he was five, except instead of a regular card, it said ‘hapy mommys day!’ and had a picture of Dean where the Mom would usually go.

“Do you wanna play something else now?” Dean asked, folding the paper up and tucking it in-between two pages of the book.

“Yeah!” Sam yelled excitedly. “Can we go to the arcade?”

“Sorry, Sammy, you know we can’t. Someone might spot us and get us in trouble with the police,” Dean mumbled, looking at the disappointed eight year old in front of him. “We can play wrestling though.” Sam’s frown returned to a grin as he leapt over the sofa towards Dean.

“Okay, we can play on my bed, just put some blankets around so you don’t hurt yourself if you fall,” Dean ordered, pulling the comforter off of Sam’s bed and spreading it on the floor between the beds. He did the same with own blanket, placing it on the other side of the bed, and then scattered the pillows at the end.

After everything was set up, they stood on the bed and started to play. They’d been through the rules a hundred times before and they didn't need to go through them again. Sam leapt at Dean, knocking him on his ass, and Dean fought back, bringing Sam down with him. They managed to get a couple of hits each before Sam fell off the bed and onto the blanket at the side.

“You okay, Sammy?” Dean asked, peering over the edge.

“Fine,” Sam laughed, flashing a gap-toothed grin before climbing his way back onto the bed.

“I won that round!” Dean yelled triumphantly, dancing around on the lumpy mattress. “Ready for round two, squirt?”

Dean counted them in, and again, Sam jumped up almost immediately, rushing forward to knock his brother over. Swiftly, he dodged Dean’s gentle attempts of block and dove in to catch his legs. Dean swayed for a moment, before falling over his little brother’s arms. A heavy thud rang out in the motel room as Dean’s head hit the night stand, and then again when he hit the floor.

“DEAN!” Sam yelped, rushing to his brother’s side. Dean had managed to land on his back, so he could still see Sam, but he passed out almost straight away. There was blood coming from a cut just above Dean’s left eyebrow, and it was slowly trickling down his face. Panicked, Sam ran for the phone, unsure who to call. In the end he punched in some numbers that he’d been taught and waited for someone to pick up.

“Hello, 999 how may I direct your call?” A woman with a perky voice asked on the other end.

“I need an amber-lence,” Sam cried down the phone.

“What is your emergency?” The lady asked, worried over the little boy’s tone.

“My brother h-hit his head an’ now he’s bleeding,” Sam wailed, looking back over to where Dean was lying unconscious.

“Can you tell me where you are?” She asked, her tone gentle and calming.

“May-Mayfield motel in room sixteen,” he sobbed, stumbling over his lisp on the s in sixteen. The motel key was still by the door, and Sam was glad that Dean taught him how to read stuff like that.

“Okay, we’ve sent you an ambulance,” the woman informed him. “Would you like me to stay on the phone with you?”

“No, I need to make sure Dean’s okay for when the doctors get here,” Sam said solemnly, hanging up before the nice lady could argue. He unlocked the door so the paramedics could get through when they arrived, and sat beside Dean. He tried to make him comfortable, but he didn't know how to because Dean had never been hurt before. Sam had been hurt, mainly by bullies (although there was the incident of Batman can’t fly that earned him a broken arm), and Dad had been hurt, although Sam doesn't know what by. Dean had never been hurt because Dean was the hero that saved the day.

Eventually, the paramedics arrived, knocking lightly on the door to let Sam know they were there. Quickly, he stumbled towards the door and let them in. He expected them to let him hold Dean’s hand the entire way, but quickly he was pushed out of the way and left stood beside the door as a woman started bandaging Dean’s head. When Dean was being moved onto a stretcher, a man in blue scrubs came to talk to him.

“Hey there, buddy,” the man smiled patronisingly. “Are your parents home?” 

“No, Daddy’s at work,” Sam replied, watching his big brother carefully to know he was alright.

“What about your Mommy?” He questioned, leaning more towards Sam.

“We don’t have a Mommy,” Sam said, perplexed by the question.

“Would you like to sit in the ambulance with your brother?” He asked gently, holding a hand out to the eight year old. Shyly, Sam nodded his head, taking the strangers hand. He stopped to grab the keys and made sure everyone was out of the room before locking the door behind them.

Outside, a small crowd of motel residents had appeared, watching the incident unfold. Sam shrugged them off, eager to stay with Dean as much as he could. The paramedic let him hold Dean’s hand throughout the drive to the hospital, partly because it comforted Sam, partly because they were getting better results from Dean.

It took them about twenty minutes to get back to the hospital, and from there, the brothers were split up. Dean, who was just starting to wake up, got taken to a hospital room. On the other hand, Sam got taken away by a nurse who said she wanted a conversation with him. She had a round face, soft, shoulder length blonde hair, and kind blue eyes. She looked like the motherly type, so Sam trusted her.

“Where’s your Daddy, sweetie?” She asked as soon as she had him cornered in a random office. Sam shrugged.

“He’s at work,” Sam mumbled. “I don’t know where he works though,” he added quickly.

“Who was looking after you, then?” 

“Dean was looking after me, and Uncle Bobby but Uncle Bobby couldn't look after us then,” Sam told her.

“Do you have your Uncle Bobby’s number?” Sam grabbed a pad of paper and a pen she had on the desk and hastily scrawled out a barely legible number. The woman looked at it before going to find a phone she could use. She dismissed Sam on the way out, telling him he could probably be with his brother now.

After wandering the hallways for about ten minutes, a different nurse, one with tanned skin and dark hair, pointed him in the right direction. There were no doctors in the room, or other patients for that matter, but Dean also wasn't awake. At the bottom of the bed, was a sheet of paper that Sam knew had the problem written on it, but Sam couldn't quite read at that level yet and the words were too long and confusing.

He stayed in the room watching his brother, partly because he couldn't go back to the motel if he wanted to, and because even though Dean was older, he felt protective of him. Nurses came and went, mostly to check on Dean, occasionally to check on Sam. At some point a nurse told him that Bobby was on his way and would be there soon. It didn't matter though, because no one told him whether Dean was okay or not. 

It wasn't long before the sun went down and Sam began to feel sleepy. He realised he hadn't eaten or drank anything since long before lunch and he heard his stomach growl at him. Sam ignored it and instead went to climb into bed with Dean. Thankfully, there was no machinery sticking out of him, so Sam could comfortably snuggle into his side. 

“’m sorry, Dean,” Sam mumbled into his brother’s neck, before closing his eyes and entering a fitful sleep.

 

The next time Sam woke up, he was in the back of Bobby’s truck. He didn't know how long he had been sleeping, but it was just starting to lighten up outside as the sun rose over the hills. In the front, Dean, who apparently was now awake, and Bobby were talking in hushed voices.

“So you were playin’ wrestlin’ and you fell and banged your head,” Bobby whispered in disbelief.

“Yeah, I promise,” Dean raised his voice a little, as though he was angry. Quickly, he glanced back at Sam, who was pretending to still be asleep, and smiled fondly at his sleeping form. “You reckon Dad’ll be mad with Sam?” That caught Sam’s attention, and he peeked out from under Dean’s jacket to hear the conversation better.

“Well you know John better than I do,” Bobby muttered bitterly. “I’m guessing he’ll be pretty damn annoyed, considering cops might be on his ass.” Sam got scared at the sentence. How mad would Daddy be? They’re not supposed to tell anyone they’re not with him. Would Dean be mad too? Not wanting to hear the rest of the conversation, Sam tried to drift back off to sleep.

 

Sam woke up again just as they were pulling up to Bobby’s house. They must have stopped off at the motel to collect their things on the way, because there were three duffle bags next to Sam on the seat. It was now midday, and as Bobby parked the car, he could tell it was going to be a warm day.

“Hey, Sammy, you finally awake?” Bobby asked, and Sam like that better because he was a lot less patronising than all the hospital staff. Sam tiredly nodded his head, pushing himself up and out of the truck.

“Listen, I'm gonna take your brother upstairs to rest for a bit,” Bobby told him. “Go play with Zep for a bit.” At his name being called, a large Rottweiler padded up to the boy and started happily sniffing him. Suddenly, Zep jumped up at Sam, knocking him over into the gravel, and started licking him eagerly.

“Hey, Zep, missed you too,” Sam squealed with joy as the dog fussed over him. By the time that Sam managed to get up, Bobby and Dean were long gone into the old house, and Sam was left surrounded by a bunch of old cars. He thought back to what he had heard Dean say earlier that morning, and that he probably hated him now for ruining everything.

When he was sure Bobby wasn't coming back, Sam decided he was going to go for a walk. It would give Dean long enough to figure that he didn't want Sam as a brother any more and that he and Dad would be better off without him. Zep stayed with him for a while, but eventually, he skulked off back to the house, as if he was scared of the end of the scrap yard.

It took the eight year old a while to navigate his way through the maze of old cars Bobby had collected over the years. Eventually, he came to a fence, presumably the edge of the scrap yard. There was a hole in the chicken wire, and behind that, a dense forest. Shrugging, Sam thought that was as good a place to go as any and ducked under the fence.

 

When Bobby was done with Dean’s medicine, he made sure to make Sam something to eat. He was sure the kid hadn't eaten since before Dean got to the hospital so he definitely needed something, even if it was just a sandwich to keep him fed until dinner. He made Sam’s favourite, peanut butter and banana, and added a bar of chocolate, because his sugar levels would be way down.

He called Sam’s name out into the yard, but got nothing in response. Again, he yelled, only louder and from the doorway, still not seeing Sam anywhere. Zep was laid on the front porch, tail wagging but no Sam with him. Rapidly, Bobby walked all the way around the house, looking for the boy, but he wasn't anywhere to be seen. In the end, he turned to Dean because he knew Sam better than anybody.

“Dean, I can’t find your brother anywhere,” Bobby panted, exasperated from running around. He heard a groan emit from Dean’s bed and saw him climbing out of it.

“The idiot probably feels like it’s his fault I got hurt,” Dean grumbled, shuffling to get his jacket. “Seriously, I love the kid, but he’s got more guilt than the entirety of Canada.” Dean huffed as he moved downstairs and pulled on his boots.

“Where do you think he is?” Bobby asked, joining Dean at the bottom of the staircase.

“Pro’ly run off, knowing Sam,” Dean mumbled, draping his jacket over himself. It smelled like Sam after he was wrapped up in it for the car journey, and it’s a comforting smell. The smell of home, his mind provides.

Without another word, Dean took off, looking for the edge of the scrap yard. It was a lot easier for Dean to come by, but he had to run along it for a few minutes before he found a break in the defence. Swiftly, he pushed under it, finding himself in a dark forest.

 

“SAMMY!” Sam looked up when he heard his name being called. He couldn't see anyone familiar, but he recognised the voice to be Dean’s.

“Sammy!” The voice was a lot closer now, and sounded a lot happier, and it took Sam a moment to realise why. Dean was staring straight at him, running towards him with power and excitement.

“Sammy,” Dean panted, now stood right in front of him. “Why’d you run away?” 

“You’re mad at me,” Sam mumbled accusingly.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“’Cuz I got us in trouble with the police,” Sam pouted, looking as though he was going to cry.

“I'm not mad at you, Sammy, I promise,” Dean smiled, sitting beside his baby brother. Gingerly, he wrapped an arm around him, finding he was cold, so just drew Sam further into a hug.

“Is Dad mad at me?” Sammy asked doubtfully. He winced as he waited for a response, and Dean could physically feel Sam tense.

“Bobby’s not gonna let him, okay? I’m not going to let him,” Dean promised, rubbing Sam’s arm in comfort. “Bobby made you some food, bet you haven’t eaten since yesterday, you must be starving!” Dean stood up, pulling Sam up with him. Together, they walked back to the scrap yard, Sam’s stomach growling and Dean laughing.


End file.
